LAVINIA.
A PASTORAL.
Why steals from my bosom the sigh?
Why fix’d is my gaze on the ground?
Come, give me my pipe, and I’ll try
To banish my cares with the sound.
Ere now were its notes of accord
With the smile of the flow’r-footed muse:
Ah! why, by its master implor’d,
Shou’d it now the gay carol refuse?